


Chasing Crescendos

by Magicalmaladies



Category: Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Depression, M/M, Therapy, abuse trigger warning, but I promise there is fluff in it too, ever so slightly smutty, some language, yeah guys this one is really angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicalmaladies/pseuds/Magicalmaladies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when life goes to hell, you just have to deal with it. Or find some way to put out the flames. Of course when you're Simon Snow, that's easier said than done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Crescendos

_"And I had the week that came from hell_

_And yes I know that you could tell_

_But you're like the net under the ledge_

_When I go flying off the edge_

_You go flying off as well"_

 

 

With each shallow breath, Simon tried and failed to suppress the panic rising in his throat. _This was his fault, all his fault, and he had nobody to blame but himself._ If he hadn't been so insistent that they look for the last hare in the depths of the Veiled Forest, than maybe he wouldn't be staring death in the face right now. Death that came in the form of a lion/human/scorpion/bird hybrid. He turned and glanced at his companion, and while with anyone else it would have been a small relief to see a similar reaction to his own, on Baz it was terrifying.

“Watch out for its tail!” Baz cried, which was a bit needless in Simon’s opinion. He had no interest in testing his flesh against a giant stinger. His childhood self who was afraid of shots at the doctor's office would have wet himself at the sight of what his sixteen-year-old self was currently up against.

“I know what a Manticore is,” Simon replied, keeping his distance from the raging beast.

“Do you? Do you really? Because those barbs it’s lobbing at you are paralyzing _at best._ Fatal at worst.” He punctuated this grim observance by launching a fire ball at the creature’s feet before continuing. “Did you also know that they have three rows of teeth? Quite handy for devouring a tasty little school boy whole.”

“I don’t need a lesson here! We need to figure out how to get close enough to kill that thing without getting impaled first.”

“On it. It’s obviously only irritated otherwise it would have charged by now. If we can convince it that we’re the bigger threat, it will probably retreat.”

At that exact moment the Manticore stepped onto a burning patch of grass and let out a howl that still managed to send fear shooting down Simon’s spine despite its sounding like a trumpet, brassy and high. It was majestic in the most primitive sense of the term. “…Baz, I think you made it angry.”

He caught the boy's face out of the corner of his eye, just enough of a glimpse to see that his pale skin had turned an ashy shade. And it was lucky, too, because this way he was able to see Baz mouth the word ‘run’ before taking off himself.

Simon didn’t need more of an incentive. He took off through the trees of the Veiled forest, dodging fallen limbs and sprinting down the first available paths as he came upon them. He could hear Baz crashing through the woods near him, his panting audible over Simon's own ragged breathing. Why had they decided that the forest was a good place to look for the last hare? Oh, that’s right. It had been his own suggestion. He hoped he could look back on this one day and laugh.

The panting was getting louder which was awfully strange seeing as Baz was fit from all of his soccer training. A moist wind blew on the back of Simon’s neck, and with a gasp he realized that it was not his roommate behind him, but rather the ferocious, horrifying beast that wanted to eat students alive. He tried to summon the sword of Mages but was left grasping at air when it didn’t respond to his fear addled plea for help. If they could just make it to the Great Lawn-

One moment Simon was running for his life, and the next, it was flashing before his eyes. He must have tripped on a root or something because the slim lead he had was now gone. The Manticore charged at him with enough speed to knock the wind out of his lungs when he finally hit the ground. It loomed over his vision, and the promised teeth made a shark attack seem more welcome. A string of saliva dripped onto Simon’s face as he desperately searched for his wand only to find it missing. This was it; it was all over. He closed his eyes and waited for the venomous stinger to plunge into him.

Nothing happened. Simon cracked his eyes open to see the Manticore intently staring at him, barely moving except for the rise and fall of its chest. It seemed to be…waiting for something. And then almost faster than his eyes could track, _a snake, an actual snake,_ darted out of the gaping mouth and spit in his eyes.

Simon screamed without being aware that he was screaming, as the most acute pain he had ever felt in his life burned beneath his lids. He could feel tears rolling down his face and wanted more than anything to die. Right there on the forest floor; a failure to his friends, a failure to Baz, a failure to Watford, a failure to the world of Mages. It didn’t matter so long as the searing stopped. Suddenly, he felt the weight of the beast lifted from his chest and a pair of hands pulling him up.

“Simon, Simon, please! You have to be okay.” Baz said, wrapping a strong arm around Simon’s middle and using the other to brush his tears away. “What’s wrong; it didn’t sting you, did it?”

“No, it’s my eyes. They’re burning! It spit some kind of poison in them." he gasped, crying even harder.

“Oh god, oh Crowley, uhmmm, cleansing spells, do we know any of those?” Baz fell silent and Simon tried to swallow his panic. "Of course. _Cleanliness is next to godliness_. That should do it.”

The burning had ceased as soon as Baz uttered the spell. Simon blinked his eyes a few times but nothing came into focus. “Baz? I think something is wrong. I can’t see anything even though the pain is gone.”

“Shit. Shit. Okay, we need to get you to the infirmary, stat. Come close, I’m going to spell us straight there.”

“Why? What’s going on? _Why can’t I see anything?”_ Simon said, his voice pitching into hysteria.

“I said come here.” Baz grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I think it might be a toxin of sorts, probably a temporary blindness to make sure the prey can’t escape. But we need to get it looked at immediately to make sure it won’t do any irreversible damage.”

“What do you mean by ‘irreversible’!?” Simon demanded but Baz was already whispering the spell to take them back to Watford.

_“There’s no place like home.”_

He felt his stomach flip and his feet leave the ground, only to materialize on what he assumed was the flagstone of a corridor moments later. “I’m going to carry you there, alright?” Baz said, sweeping Simon off his feet before even waiting for an answer. _It was humiliating_ , Simon thought with disgust. He turned his face into Baz’s chest to hide his tear-stained and probably scratched up face from any passing students. _I’m Simon Snow. I’m supposed to be the Mage’s Heir. I’m supposed to win._

Baz kept murmuring soothing words under his breath, probably trying to keep Simon, and maybe himself, from panicking. He seemed just as distraught as Simon did, which could absolutely not be a good thing. Tyrannous Basilton Pitch kept his calm at all costs. Tyrannous Basilton Pitch wore his icy mask like a shield, an impenetrable defense to pesky human aspects like emotions. If hewas this upset, well, Simon didn't want to think about how serious the situation really was.

The quiet of the castle gave way to a loud babble over which could be heard piercing shrieks of mirth. Simon guessed they were passing the dining hall and would be at the infirmary in a few moments. "Baz, am I going to be okay?" he asked, suddenly valuing his roommate's diagnosis over the professional ones he was about to receive.

"I don't know, Snow, I really don't. But I certainly hope so." Baz shifted and used what Simon suspected to be his foot to pound on the Merlskyne Infirmary door. "Open up, Olga! We have an emergency on our hands!"

The door opened with a bang and Simon could practically imagine the stern yet mothering expression on the Caregiver's face. "Mr. Pitch! What have you gotten yourself into now? And why do you have-oh. Oh, Merlin. Tatiana! Set up the cot in the private sector immediately. Hurry on in, dear, before we get any nosy Nellie's. And Tatiana," she added almost as an afterthought, "You best run along and get the Mage. He's going to want to see this."

Baz set Simon onto a mattress and sat down next to him. "I'm not going anywhere, you hear me?"

"Okay."

Footsteps thudded across the room and stopped near his proximity. "Simon? What happened to you?" It was the Mage, his straight-to-business-attitude apparently unaltered.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Folly, mischief, the typical adventure gone awry..."

"Simon. Caregiver Olga can't help you if you don't let her know exactly what it is you've gotten yourself into."

Simon let out a puff of breath. "We were in the forest. Baz and me. We were attacked by a Manticore and tried to outrun it. Then somewhere along the way I tripped and it caught me. And it- it _spit_ in my face. Actually, its tongue was a snake of sorts and that spit at me...Whatever the case may be, the toxin burned and now I can't see anything."

"Why were you in the Veiled Forest?"

Olga interrupted, a rare occurrence with any of the staff. "Sir! I don't see how that information impacts the current situation! This boy is in grave danger and you want to question his-" She fell silent and Simon assumed that The Mage must have motioned for her to stop.

"I'll repeat, what were you doing in the Veiled Forest that would get you deep enough as to encounter Manticores?"

"It was my fault." Baz said, cutting in before Simon had to admit to the six hares quest. "I wanted to search for fairy rings to see if I could catch a sprite and bring it in to show Dev and Niall. Simon saw me going out and tried to stop me, but I was so determined that he insisted on tagging along because, and I quote, 'I'm too stubborn for my own good.' "

Simon's heart stayed frozen in his throat. This was an outright lie, and not even a good one at that. There was no way the Mage would fall for it.

"I'm thoroughly disappointed in you, Tyrannous. I expect better from such an outstanding family. Your father will be mighty disapproving of this I dare say."

"Sir..." the girlish voice of Olga's daughter, Tatiana, seemed to plead for a more appropriate time.

"Tyrannous, you will come with me. Caregivers, you are going to do everything within your means to restore Simon's sight. I will research this 'spitting Manticore' tonight and I want a full update on his condition tomorrow morning. I remind you of the importance of the Mage's Heir having his full vision. Goodnight. "

"With all due respect, _sir_ , I'm not going anywhere. Not until Simon is released." Baz said, defiance written in every word. _Silly, foolish boy._

"I don't believe I was making a request. Now come along." he said, a dangerous undertone lying beneath the calm.

Simon felt out Baz's hand and curled his fingers around the palm. "Go."

"Are you sure? I'll fight to stay with you."

"I know. But go."

"Okay, but I'll be back as soon as I can." He got up, causing the bed to shift with the removal of his weight, and followed the Mage out of the room. A faint click signaled their exit.

Simon felt a cool pressure on his face and he assumed that Tatiana was cleaning up his cuts. "You're in for a long night, Simon. Are you sure you're up to it?"

"I'll try anything to be able to see again."

"Now that's what I like to hear! I love patients who don't fight me. Makes for less frustrations for everyone involved." Olga paused to snap some gloves in place. "Now, we're going to be trying different methods until we find one that works. I'll admit that some of them may be unorthodox so you'll have to bear with me. But we'll start with the basics and maybe this will go easy for once."

Tatiana was right; it did end up being a long night. And eventually an unfruitful one at that. It started with spells and progressed to incantations before moving on to truly desperate territory. He knew where that was when Tatiana suggested the use of healing crystals placed at strategic chakras and he also knew that the heavy scent of incense in the air signified a last ditch attempt. He didn't blame the Caregivers, however, because deep in his heart, Simon knew there was something really wrong. Maybe something even magic couldn't fix if he could have been brave enough to admit it.

"I'm sorry Simon, I just don't know what else to do. Why don't you get some sleep and we'll figure something out in the morning?"

"I know you tried your best and for that, thank you."

Tatiana gave Simon a hug. "I wish something would have worked."

_Me too,_ he thought trying not to let the sinking feeling in his stomach seep into his heart.

It was only after he was alone for the night that he realized Baz had never come back. He hoped he wasn't in any trouble and especially not for something that had been Simon's fault. He yawned as he tried and failed not to worry about it. To say that the Mage and Baz didn't get along was an understatement. It was a monumental tension that was bound to snap at some point and Aleister only knew what was really the cause of their mutual dislike. Well, that wasn't completely true. Baz made his views perfectly clear so it was more a question of why the Mage didn't like him in return. Simon used to think it was because his mentor could see what a raging prat his roommate was, but lately it seemed to go deeper than that.

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Simon drifted off to sleep, the unchanging darkness not being quite the reprieve it normally was.

 

********************

 

"You're awake!"

Simon rolled over to face the general direction that Baz's voice was coming from. "I suppose so, but it looks the same as dreaming."

Baz sighed. "No luck then?"

"It's safe to say that I'm not going to win any Eye-Spy competitions in the immediate future."

They sat in silence for some time before Simon gave in. "What are you doing here Baz?"

"Waiting for you."

"To what? See again? Because in that case, you might be here awhile."

"No you twat. I'm waiting for them to let you go so I can take you back to the room."

That was unexpected. "Oh. But no carrying me this time. It's embarrassing."

"I'll be sure to do just that. How about Lion King style this time?"

Simon grinned. "Only if you sing the theme song the entire way."

"Tempting but all the admirers asking for autographs would be far too incumbent."

"You keep telling yourself that, Pitch. But I'll have you know that I've heard your singing and you are by no means an opera star."

"Damn straight. My talents are better suited for Broadway." Simon could imagine the cheeky grin that probably accompanied the remark.

Baz took a faltering breath, breaking the light mood. "Simon about the other-"

"Mr. Pitch! What are you doing in here?" Interrupted the bellowing cry of Olga. "Mr. Snow is supposed to be resting and your gibber-jabbering is making that down right impossible. Do you have any idea how disruptive this is to the healing process?"

"And your yelling isn't?"

"That's it. Out, Basilton, out!"

Simon was suddenly struck by the realization that he didn't want Baz to go. He had had his fill of silence and any company was preferable to the thundering echoes of his own mind. "I'm fine, really I am. Please let Baz stay. I don't think that any natural means on the part of my body is going to cure my blindness at this point."

Olga let out a puff of air that gave her answer before her voice did. "I suppose you're right. In fact, I'll even let you go back to your room if Mr. Pitch here promises to keep you on bed rest."

"I swear to it, ma'am. I'll treat this boy like an invalid if need be."

"Well then get going. I can't have you taking up the intensive care bed if your body is 'all done rejuvenating' or whatnot."

Simon slowly made his way out of the room, walking with a delicacy akin to daintiness in order not to run into anything. It was...odd. He felt unbalanced and out of place, an entity inhabiting empty space. Well, the kind of empty that has edges. As they traversed the halls, he could feel Baz hovering at his side. He shook off the arm that Baz tried to place around his shoulders but at least the bloke had the good sense not to make snide comments or make another attempt at physically supporting him. He could do this on his own, _he wasn't an invalid._

After a long journey that involved two stubbed toes, five worried sighs, and one smashed into wall that caused him to wonder if he had left a Simon-shaped indent, they reached their room. Simon collapsed onto his bed, narrowly avoiding falling off, and by the sounds of it, the action did not escape Baz's notice. He felt the mattress dip as Baz joined him.

"So...guess you'll be spending a lot of time here, huh?"

"Wasn't planning on it, actually. They don't give the blind kids a free pass to skip class."

"We don't have any blind kids. Besides you now."

"I know, but how can I defeat the Humdrum if I don't become a proper magician? So yeah, I'm going to class. Besides, Penny would probably have a conniption if I didn't."

"You're going to go up against the Humdrum in your condition? Not that I doubt your abilities but, I mean-"

"No, that's exactly what you're doing. Doubting. I'm blind now, so? It might suck, and I might desperately wish that Olga or the Mage produce a cure somehow, but that's not going to stop me from preparing to fight him. I don't have a choice, Baz. He's going to come for me whether I can see it or not, and then he is going to kill a lot of good people, people who _will_ die if I'm not ready. I'm going to go to class because I have no other choice."

"There's always another choice. I could tutor you if you'd like."

"I'm not going to be a shut-in!" Simon yelled, quickly becoming embarrassed by his outburst as soon as it was over. "Sorry, sorry. I just- I'm fine. I can do this, okay? And it would really mean a lot to me if you had my back on this."

Baz slipped his arm around Simon's shoulders and this time the Mage's Heir gave in, not even minding that he liked the way his head fit into the curve of Baz's shoulder, like it was built to his exact dimensions. "I always will.”

"Since when did we become this- this no fighting thing?"

"You mean friends?"

"No," Simon said mulling it over, "that's not what I mean. I mean since when did we stop trying to break each other's necks over the other breathing too heavily or trying to spell each other's appendages into solid objects?"

"Everybody grows up sometime. And if I recall correctly, you were never quite as keen to follow through on your threats like I was."

"Oh, stop it. I was just as mean. I meant it when I told everyone who would listen that you were a nasty, evil bugger, and I meant it every time I sank a punch into your pretty face."

"So you admit that I'm attractive?"

"What? No. I meant-"

"Oh ho, Snow! No take backs! The Mage's Heir thinks I'm pretty...whatever shall I do to commemorate this honor? I feel like I need to get that on tape just so I'll have evidence to sell to the press. Well strap a pair of wings on me and call me Icarus, it never occurred to me that all of your anger was just pent up sexual frustrations."

Simon yanked his head off Baz's shoulder. "You're ridiculous! I wanted to bash your head in because you were a stupid, arrogant prick who thought that just because he came from money, it gave him the right to push others down. From day one, you acted like it was your God given right that everybody bow to your brilliance and make a pedestal out of their own groveling bodies. You were so, so stupid that I-"

Simon's ratcheting anger was interrupted by the door banging open and bringing two flustering girls with it.

"Simon Snow!" came the undeniable voice of Penelope Bunce, so loud that he figured it was coming from right in front of him. "How dare you! How dare you take such a stupid, silly risk without any thought to the consequences. How dare you think that it would be okay to- to _meander_ -around the damn Veiled Forest and not think something of this magnitude could happen? And how dare you _ever_ think that it won't keep me up at night to know that I could've been there to stop it from happening if you just would have asked me to come." Her voice gave a choked sob and she reached out a hand to Simon's cheek. "I won't rest until I find a cure, you know that, right? If I have to make it my life's mission, so be it. Gods, Simon. You can't- I can't- it's not supposed to happen like this..."

"Penelope, you couldn't have stopped this. I was there and the thing was just too quick. Not to mention being a type of Manticore that's never been seen in England before."

"I didn't ask for your input, Basil. Simon might've been alone for all the help and quick thinking you were."

Agatha jumped in, ready to diffuse the situation before it exploded, like always. "Whoa, whoa! Let's not fight about what-ifs and should've-beens. The past is the past and can't be undone. So let's not tear it apart, shall we? Here, I've brought you something, Simon." She placed a long, smooth rod in his hands. "I figured we should try to help you in the present as best we can."

Simon ran his hands over the surface. It was a grainy texture and felt cool beneath his palms. A type of wood or synthetic perhaps. The rod ended in a curve that seemed to be embellished with etchings of some sort. Of course; Agatha had given him a cane. It was quite thoughtful, really, but then again that was kind of her specialty.

"Crowley, Aggie, I don't know what to say..."

"How about 'golly gee, thank you, m'am.' " she said, dropping the pitch of her voice.

Simon felt his face grow hot. "Oh! Thank you, this means a lot."

"Now that the mandatory gooey moment is over," Baz broke in, sarcasm apparently intact, "how about you tell us where you got the cane? I'm assuming you didn't just have one stowed in your closet to go along with that waist coat you've been meaning to wear?"

"Actually I did. I brought one from home because we needed it for last year's production of _A Christmas Carol._ I just forgot to bring it back over the summer." she snapped.

Was it just Simon or had there been enough tension for one day? He knew his friends meant well but he just wanted, no, _needed_ , to be left alone.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in class?" he asked, trying for just the right amount of accusatory and concern.

Agatha gave a guilty giggle. "We skipped. Figured you were more important than another lesson on the properties of toad stools in relation to invisibility potions."

"That's very kind of you but Professor Harrington is definitely going to notice the absence of two of his brightest students and then take it as a personal front to his teaching abilities. Besides, I'm not in any critical condition. If you left now, you could probably slip back in and say Ms. Crestwood held you back. He won't bother to check if you're lying or not." Professor Harrington, while well known for his self-inflated ego, was not known to care about his student's honesty levels. Or lack of.

Pen let out an indignant breath, which was really not fair of her. "I- Simon, don't you want us here?"

"Of course, I just don't want you to get in trouble. I'll be in class tomorrow and I kind of wanted to use today to rest up and prepare myself, if you don't mind. Honestly, it's going to be pretty boring if you stay, just sitting around and watching me sleep."

"That's totally understandable." Agatha said. "Will we see you at breakfast?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Okay, Simon." she murmured, leaning over and giving him a hug. "Take care."

"I'll be sure of it, even if Penny doesn't think me capable." Baz spoke up, and Simon imagined that he had just earned himself one of her patented Bunce glares.

After the door closed and he was sure they had left, Simon let out a sigh of relief.

"That was...wow. You were _rude,_ Snow. Not that I haven't always known you to be capable of it, but to your friends? That's so un-heroic of you. Hardly Mage worthy material."

Simon swallowed the wave of irritation rising in his throat. He'd already regretted being harsh once today. "I just couldn't bear it. All the worry and pity. Not today."

"Then you definitely aren't ready for tomorrow." Baz said. There was a shuffling sound and a grunt and then the sound of foot falls crossing the floor.

"Where are you going?"

"...Out? You said you're going to be sleeping, so I don't think I'm going to be missing much."

"Oh. I'm not, really. I just said that because- to be quite frank about it- I wanted to get rid of them. I'm actually going to be taking this," he waved the cane around, "for a test drive before tomorrow."

Simon got up and began to move about the room, using the cane to get a feel for his surroundings. To his surprise, it wasn't that hard. In fact, he could probably be back to normal within a week at this rate. Apparently, not having eyesight wasn't going to be such a big-

Simon's thoughts were cut off as his knee slammed into what he thought might be the dresser. _Blast it all._

"Seriously, Simon?"

"Back to a first name basis, are we?" he managed to snap despite the pain throbbing in his leg.

Baz let out a huffy breath. "Okay. That does it; you tried. Now you're going to stay here just like Olga asked and rest. No hurting yourself whilst blundering around like a fool."

Simon ignored him and continued to make his way to the door.

"Snow!"

Nope. No way. He wasn't giving in. He had to get his bearings somehow, and the only way to do that was with practice.

"Fine. Fine. You win." His roommate gave a dejected sigh. "But I'm coming with."

"You don't have to."

"Oh yes I do. If I don't, you're libel to fall down the stairs and break your neck or something. And heavens knows Penelope will do the same to me once she finds out."

"Mmm-hmm." He should really be at the doorway by now. Crowley, it kinda felt like he was wandering through a vast array of space. Just him and the stars, an astronaut adrift in a sea of darkness, gazing across the empty expanse at the final frontier.... A hand slid across Simon’s shoulders halting him and his rambling thoughts, but before he could protest, Baz's voice was near his ear, dangerously low and far too close.

"You're about to run into a wall, Flash Gordon." He spun Simon around and continued on in a softer tone, seeming to take Simon's silence as hurt. "Come on. We'll go practice. Everybody is in class right now, so you don't have to worry about anyone watching us."

Simon let himself be steered out, sensing a losing battle with the war between humiliation and gratitude. He just didn't know which side was going to come out the victor yet.

Once they were in the hallway, Baz moved his hand away. "Okay. How do you want to do this?"

"I don't know, I'll just walk around and you keep me from injuring any essential organs?"

Simon sensed a frown in the air. "Don't be ridiculous. How about you try to recreate the way to the Dining Hall? I'll just be here for moral support."

Simon fell into a silence, trying to use his other senses to help him determine his surroundings. As he went along, he tried to pick out landmarks to guide himself. A flash of light as they passed a window, the vortex of intense quiet that seemed to be a trademark of libraries everywhere, the smell of flowers and soil as they passed the botany classroom. It was difficult and slow, and Baz had to help Simon more often than he would have cared to admit. His roommate would whisper a slight change of direction or warn of a potential meet and greet with a wall, and even went so far as to hold Simon's elbow as they descended a staircase. That part was awkward right up until he remembered that Baz had necks to make sure weren't broken.

Just as they were passing the central parlor and moments before they were about to arrive at the Promised Land, the clanging of bells signifying class change rang, startling both boys and making them jump.

Simon ran a hand through his hair. "We've got about thirty seconds before this hall is flooded with hungry teenagers who will see me on their way to dinner and then my condition will be spread faster than jam on Sunday morning toast. What are we going to do?"

"Come on." Baz grabbed Simon's hand and pulled him around a corner, moving at a clip so fast that it could only be described as towing. "Hurry up now."

There was the sound of a door being opened and Baz stepped inside, dragging Simon with. When he shut it, the outside sounds of approaching voices seemed swallowed up, a muffled quiet that indicated that wherever Baz had hid them was a small, encapsulated place. Simon backed up, wanting to let his senses solve their new riddle, and promptly stumbled over clutter on the floor. He swung his arms out hoping to catch onto to something to regain his balance with, but found only air. He was going to hit the ground and it was going to hurt.

Suddenly there was a strong arm around his lower back and another grasping his tie, and then just as quickly as he had fallen, he was upright again.

"Honestly, Simon, I swear you are going to give me a heart attack one of these days." Baz's voice was low enough to be considered a purr, but the things that thought did to Simon's heart were alarming enough to convince him that if either of them were to go into cardiac arrest, it wasn't going to be his roommate.

"W-where are we?"

Baz took his hand off Simon's tie. And then his back. "Broom closet. There's one right near the Dining Hall, luckily. Probably makes it easier for the staff to clean up after us."

_Ah._ "Quick thinking."

"Did you doubt my abilities?"

Simon could feel the breath of each enunciation against his face. They were still awful close. How silly of Watford to build such a small storage room; it must hold next to nothing. "I suppose I shouldn't have. You've always been rather good at slipping off into the shadows."

"I prefer the term 'slinking.' It sounds more nefarious that way." He paused and the air grew still around them. "I think we can head back now, everyone is probably eating at this point."

"Okay, but we have to be quick. I don't want to get caught."

Baz gave a strangled laugh. "You make us sound like criminals. You're blind, not about to commit a robbery. Why are you so scared of being seen? You do know that you're going to have to face the same questions tomorrow, right?"

He eased open the door and Simon followed, managing to nick his shoulder against the frame on his way out. "Yes, but if tomorrow in class is the first time that anybody sees me, then it's less of a spectacle. They can all form their opinions at the same time. If they were to find out tonight, though, the rumor mill would wind up with enough fervor to cause gawking. Say we run into some girl and she goes off and tells her roommate who tells her boyfriend who tells his soccer lads who mentions it to a teacher who- well, it would just be terrible!"

"Snow, at the risk of being insensitive, you do realize that you aren't going to be able to tell if people are 'gawking' or not, right?"

Simon felt his face heat up. "Well, of course, but I know they will be. And besides, I'll still be able to hear their whispers."

"Whatever you say."

They walked in silence and Simon tried to concentrate on appearing normal and not at a loss. It was still difficult, and he failed to not stiffen at every creak further ahead or questionable thud from behind. After about the seventh occurrence, it seemed that Baz had had enough of his paranoia.

"Alright. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can either stand here and argue with me and risk being overheard, or you can take my hand and let me be the leader. Up to you, but in the end I'm going to win anyway, just to let you know."

Simon's mouth dropped open. "What are you, daft? I'm not going to play 'Follow the Vampire' with you. It's humiliating."

"It's not humiliating to admit you need help." Baz said with a shaky inhale.

"No, but I don't. Need help that is. I'm perfectly fine. In fact, I think I'm actually going faster than on the way down." Even Simon, who was admittedly good at self-deception, could hear the hollowness in his excuses. After a moment of consideration, he slipped his hand in Baz's, threading their fingers together, and tried to ignore the shudder that ran deep through his bones. "Lead the way, oh fearless one."

 

*******************

 

The next morning came far too quickly. Simon sat up groggily, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He rubbed his eyes, wondering why the room wasn't coming into focus before remembering that _oh yeah, being blind is a permanent thing._

"Up and at 'em, Snow! We've got a big day ahead of us, and I wouldn't want you to insult it by getting a late start. Get dressed and think about if you want to get some breakfast or if you're going to keep playing the avoidance game."

Simon frowned, pulling the covers off. "I suppose it's useless to ask for five more minutes?"

"Completely." A soft bundle hit him in the face and dropped into his lap; it was clothes. This was going to be interesting.

"Don't worry, I promise I won't look." Baz said, and was that a hint of slyness Simon detected in his voice? "Just call me when you're done."

Simon set the uniform next to him on the bed. He then stripped out of yesterday's- well, yesterday's yesterday- clothes. It was a good thing, too; they were a little on the ripe side. The pants were easy enough to get on but the shirt was an entirely different story. Putting it on was simple, it was buttoning that was not. His fingers fumbled with matching them to their respective holes and in frustration he decided to leave the top one undone. Next, he moved on to the tie. He looped it under his collar and then started laughing out loud. And not a chuckle or a giggle, but a rolling, tears in your eyes and a sore stomach kind of laugh.

"Snow? Are you okay?" Simon stopped laughing. There was a pause and he guessed that his roommate was debating on whether to open his eyes or not. "Saints preserve us...you dressed yourself like my nephew does." Simon couldn't help but think that a simple bemused scoff would have done the trick.

There was a thud and then Baz was tugging Simon's tie off . "You missed a button. They're all off. You look like you were in a hurry after a one-night stand and had to rush off before your lover woke up." He started chuckling at his own comparison which made Simon smile, and that wasn't fair because nobody's laugh should sound like a sunrise dipped in honey.

"It's not nice to make fun of the blind kid, you know."

"I'm not laughing _at_ you, I'm laughing _with_ you, git. Let me fix it." Baz didn't wait for an answer before tugging Simon's shirt straight and undoing the troublesome fixtures with the usual grace and fluidity that one would expect from a Pitch/vampire combination. There was a slight pause and in the space before his fingers retraced their route and made the necessary corrections, Simon had plenty of time to wonder at the idea of Baz fixing his nephew's shirts, all caring and warmth, affection and pats on the head.

"Done. Now for your tie."

Simon grinned. "That's why I was laughing. I went to put my tie on and suddenly the idea that I would be able to knot it correctly when I had never managed to do so back when I did have my sight was ridiculous."

Baz finished and smoothed out the fabric, fingers lingering on Simon's chest. "You always did need a mirror." It came out unexpectedly rough and Simon tried to keep his breathing steady.

"Well." Baz said, clearing his throat and backing away. "Shall we go get some food?"

Simon flushed guiltily. "Do you mind if we skip it just for today? I swear that we'll go tomorrow..."

"Alright, a hermit day it is. At this rate you're going to be a right recluse, you know."

"Takes one to know one." Simon quipped before suddenly remembering his lost wand, left somewhere among the leaves littering the forest floor, as impossible to find as a needle in a haystack. He sucked in a hurried breath. "Crowley, Baz, my wand! I dropped it when the Manticore pounced on me. What am I going to do? You can't do magic without an instrument and that's the only one the school could loan me. They're going to let gnomes feast on my cold, dead body once they find out I was foolish enough to-"

"Whoa there, Nelly. I saw it and grabbed it before taking you back. It's right here." Baz placed the wand into Simon's hands as gently as if it were actually capable of great things and not simply some rubbish hand-me-down. "Which reminds me. I was trying to come up with some spells last night that might improve your eyesight. Do you mind if I tried a few?"

"No go ahead, I trust you." _And what an odd feeling that is_ , Simon couldn't help but think.

"Okay. Umm, stay still. Wouldn't want to accidentally take out any more vital senses... _Eyes wide open."_

There was a whoosh and a breeze slid past Simon's face, and then everything was still once again. "Is that it? Is it over?"

"Did it work? Can you see again?" Baz countered.

"Would I be so calm if I could?"

"I suppose not. Okay, well how about _none so blind as those that will not see._ "

"Clever, but nothing."

"Alright. Last one. _The blind see what they want to see._ "

The only rush Simon felt was one of defeat. He hadn't even realized that he'd gotten his hopes up. He really ought to stop doing that.

Pain must have been evident on his face because Baz seemed to feel the need to fix even that. "Aleister Crowley, Simon, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have done that; it was really stupid of me. I mean, those _obviously_ wouldn't work. I'm no Olga and she foresaw the complexities of your case, complexities that can't be fixed with a few simple proverbs. I can't believe I did this and I-"

"You're babbling, Pitch." Simon cut Baz off, attempting to bury the last remnants of disappointment beneath a falsified grin. "I'm fine. I'm not upset you tried, -heck, at least someone is- and I've certainly never been very gifted in the magic department, so stop your apologizing. I'm glad you did. It was really nice."

"Mmm. Well, if you're so keen on going to class, we had better get a move on. You'll want to give yourself some extra time until you adjust."

Simon grabbed his cane and they headed out into the hall where the sounds of other doors being slammed and rising voices made Simon's stomach churn. Baz finished locking their own door and fell into step beside his roommate, taking his hand like it was a daily routine to act the part of a couple. But what surprised Simon even more than the action itself was the complete solidity in which Baz did it, kind of like he dared Simon to object.

"Baz, what are you doing?" Simon hissed. Not an objection. Just a question.

"Walking my injured roommate to class. I thought that would be quite obvious even to you."

"You know what I mean." Simon replied, trying to wrench his hand out of Baz's grasp but making no headway. Despicable vampire strength. "What if someone sees?"

"Well, then we explain your situation and they'll understand that I'm just being your guide."

"They're going to think we’re a thing!"

Baz gave a low, bitter laugh. "Would you rather I put you on a leash?"

"Fine, point taken. Now shut up." Simon had no idea why he was so bothered all of a sudden. Was it because Baz had threatened to treat him like a dog or was it because Simon was worried that people would really think they were together? He certainly didn't know. Penelope always did say that he wasn't good at figuring out what his emotions meant.

They continued on toward the dungeons for chemistry class which was possibly one of the worst things one could have scheduled right after breakfast in Simon's opinion. That or any type of math. No use trying to solve equations behind a veil of half-dissolved sleep. But that was probably just Simon. Again. No one else seemed to struggle quite like he did in school.

"So I was thinking that for the classes we don't have together, I can arrive a little early to pick you up. Maybe we can even convince the teachers to be alright with us also leaving a little ahead of time so you don't end up late for your next classes." Baz said.

"What, and your professors are going to be fine with you ditching out on them in order to escort me?"

"I think they'll understand."

"Okay, fine. Let's say they will. But I don't. Why are you doing this, Baz? I get that you're trying to be helpful, but honestly, you're taking it above and beyond."

Baz tightened his grip. "Can you stop trying to reject my support? Just because you're the Mage's Heir doesn't make you invincible for the record."

"What is your God awful hang up with my prophecy? I'm well aware I'm not invincible and I'll have you know that I fully expect to die taking down the Humdrum!"

Baz waited until Simon's words had finished echoing off the stone corridor and faded somewhere down along the passageway in front of them before speaking. "Please, Simon. Let me help you. It's the least I can do. And I want to because you're my roommate. But before that you are my friend and well, I don't, I mean- I can't really explain it but I just know that as long as we're together I want to be there for you."

"Oh."

Simon didn't know what to feel. He was angry, and confused, and touched, and depressed, and just plain tired, all at once. His emotions felt so blurred together that it was easy to imagine them as paints that had been spilled and were running together, forming one dirty, unintelligible hue. As they descended the last staircase to the dungeons in silence, Simon tried to separate the colors, shade by shade. He didn't know why he kept snapping at Baz or why half the words out his roommate's mouth didn't seem to match the tone behind them. Nothing was making sense anymore and he was too exhausted inside to care. Hopefully it would all pass with time or whatever it was that saying promised.

"Almost there. The door is right ahead." Baz said, swinging their linked hands together.

Simon jerked to a halt. "My eyes."

"What about them?" Baz answered, caution underlying every word.

"Are they- well, you know, ugly now? Are they filmy?" Suddenly the answer to this concern was the most pressing thing in the world.

"Nope. Bluer than ever." Baz tugged Simon back to a walk. "But truth be told, without focus you look a little vacant. Although everybody already knew that, so no worries."

Simon laughed, a new kind of happy to add to his emotional palette. "I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be insulted by you. Oddly enough I kind of missed it."

"Duly noted but a biting comeback will have to wait; we're here. Are you ready?"

"I suppose I'll have to be." He took a deep breath to set his stomach at ease.

"Okay. Just remember that no matter what anyone else says, you're fine. It's going to be okay though, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Pitch. Let's get it over with."

Simon was aware of every inch of Baz's hand in his own as the door to Professor Chilblain's classroom creaked open. He was present to every whorl and crease, every centimeter of the slim fingers twisted between his own, each degree of warmth that was pressed to his palm. And he was also aware that the only thing he wanted more than for Baz to let go so nobody would notice, was for him to _not_ let go so that Simon wouldn't feel adrift without his pulse to remain steady by.

But conflicted feelings would have to wait. Right now he had to focus on getting through this class and then the next, until one by one he would be free of the buzz of whispers that had started as soon as they had walked through the door.

"Ready to join us, boys?"

Baz finally released Simon's hand. "Oh, how dreadfully rude of us. I do hope you'll understand that when someone loses their eyesight, it tends to take them a bit more time to get to places than before."

Professor Chilblain responded equally unsympathetic. "I expect all my students to be here on time regardless of disabilities. I'll let today be an exception but I expect you to be on time tomorrow. And Simon lad, sorry about your loss."

"How gracious of you, _sir._ " Baz leered, prodding Simon along to their lab station in the back of the room.

When they had gotten adjusted in their seats and Professor Chilblain had given the instructions for the days lab- turning a penny into 'gold'- Baz started talking to Simon while setting up the equipment. "I don't see how you can be expected to complete an observation lab. The doddery old fool is finally off his rocker. 'Pay careful attention to the consistency of the water because this will let you know when the pennies are at near completion. If you do not remove them immediately once the bubbles begin to pop, your pennies will turn into an ugly corroded substance and you will have failed.' Seriously insane. What are you supposed to do if you can't see? Here, hold this."

Simon took the Bunsen burner from Baz as he waited for it to be connected to the gas nozzle. "Okay. First off, if he catches you calling him a 'doddery old fool' you are definitely going to have to scrub the grout in the lab floors for a week straight. Secondly, there are five senses for a reason, and I'll remind you once again that I'm only out one."

"Yeah, but what are you supposed to do? Stick your finger in the boiling water to check if the pennies are ready? I promise you that second degree burns aren't worth an A in this class." Baz grabbed the burner and scraped it across the counter into place.

"And third degree ones are?" Simon let just the right amount of superiority seep into his voice as Baz would find insufferable.

"Of course not, prat. It's just that second degree ones hurt more because the nerves aren't destroyed like they are in a third degree case. They're just really, really pissed off to the point that you wish they were."

"I would think that having the skin blackened and seared off your bone would be the worse fate."

"Perhaps, but it's the blisters and raw flesh of a second degree burn that are the real killer." Baz snatched Simon's hand away from where it was about to apparently knock something valuable over. Probably the crucible perched on the ring stand or another equally breakable object.

"Why do you know this? Are you some kind of burn expert?"

Baz expelled a very disappointed sounding sigh. "Really, Snow, this is common knowledge. Pay attention more in school. But yeah, I suppose you could call me an expert. When I was seven I wandered into the kitchen where one of our cooks had a pot of ravioli boiling. I was a curious kid and that was my favorite food, so naturally I wanted a closer look. And in all my youthful ignorance, I set my hand right on the stove top. I swear to Houdini, my skin bubbled. Couldn't grab anything for weeks. Even just water running over the skin was a nightmare."

Simon couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face.

"Are you enjoying your roommate's pain? I swear if it weren't for the Anathema you'd have tried to dispose of me years ago."

"No, no, it's just what with you being a-you-know-what and all, I figured you would be immune from common household injuries. Sorry for laughing; it wasn't funny."

"Hang on a second, let me add the pennies." There was a clink of metal hitting ceramic and then Baz was right at Simon's side, his voice hardly above a whisper. "First off, could you possibly be more obvious? Wait- don't answer that. Secondly, I'm immortal not invincible. I can still get hurt. You know that."

"Immortal with an asterisk."

"With an asterisk." Baz agreed.

'With an asterisk' was a term that went back to fifth year with them. When Simon first confronted Baz about his identity, a long and confusing explanation had been in store. And it didn't help that Baz was fuzzy about the details himself. While he had managed to learn a lot about vampires without the guidance of the Coven, there were still many aspects left to guesswork. Under a large oak tree in the forest during the dead of night, Baz had answered all the questions Simon posed him (Do you drink blood? Does animal blood make you thirstier, faster? Can you turn into a bat?) but was stumped when it came to 'So, are you immortal?' He said he didn't truthfully know. He didn't think so since he could be harmed, and bleed, and get sick just like humans, but if his aging was slowed compared to others, he had no way of knowing. So, since it seemed to be an unsolved mystery, Simon had said that he was immortal but with an asterisk, a temporary answer to a question that they could hopefully solve someday. Immortal until proven otherwise.

The scent of burning chemicals reached Simon's nose, bringing him out of his reverie. It was a faint one but paired with the sound of a boiling liquid, it was enough to cause concern. "Umm, Baz? I think the pennies might be done."

"Fuck!" There was a click as Baz shut the burner off and then the gas line. "Fuck, fuck...well, they definitely aren't gold but they aren't too far gone. Maybe we'll get a C..."

"Oh, I wouldn't be that optimistic," came the gleeful voice of their chemistry teacher. He must have seen the disaster first hand, in which case they could hardly hope for a passing grade. "I said remove immediately, not three minutes afterwards. You both are well aware that I can't stand ignorance in regards to instructions. You had better hope that your report outweighs your ruined product..." He trailed off, presumably finding some other poor student to terrorize.

"My god, that man has an superiority complex if I've ever seen one." Baz said, voice shaking with anger.

"It is our fault, we weren't paying attention like we were supposed to."

"You mean mine. I was supposed to be watching the water and I'll take the blame for the failure. Maybe we can save your grade yet."

Simon furrowed his brow. "Don't be ridiculous. I heard the water bubbling, and if I would have been listening instead of talking, I could have caught it sooner."

"If its and buts were candy and nuts, wouldn't it be a Merry Christmas?" Baz sang, as he started to rinse the materials off in the sink at their station before placing them back in the cabinet beneath. "I see your point, though."

"Is that a sight joke?" Simon gibed, trying to get Baz to lose the weary tone hiding beneath the cheery cadence.

"What? Of course not! I didn't- Aleister Almighty, Snow, I swear-"

"I know you do and it's most unbecoming for one of your upbringing. You really ought to aim for a better vocabulary."

The bell rang then, signaling that it was time for Simon to go to Rudimentary Spell Composition and Baz to head to Advanced English. As they gathered up their books and Simon his cane, a question occurred to him that he probably should have asked long before now.

"What scared the Manticore away?"

"It didn't get scared. Well, not that I know of anyway. If anything, I was the scared one." Baz gave a sharp laugh and steered them out the room. "I took a total shot. You see, there is hardly anything known about their weaknesses because anyone who gets close enough to need to know what those are, doesn't return. But I remembered reading that according to legend, the Manticore turns to stone upon seeing another of its own kind. Since I sure as hell wasn't going to have enough time- or stupidity- to try to find another one of those beasts, I did the next best thing. I conjured up a mirror, got its attention, and hoped that its own face would do the trick. Thank our lucky stars it worked or you would have been mincemeat right now."

"Yeah..." There was one last thing niggling at Simon's mind. And that was what the Mage had said- or dare he think _done_ \- to Baz that had lasted an entire evening. "Baz if I ask you something will you answer me honestly?"

"That's a big thing to want. It depends, but I suppose the most I can promise is that I'll try."

"What did the Mage say to you the night I was in the infirmary?"

Baz choked on the air and tried to cover it with a cough, but after six years Simon could recognize the rare signs of a Pitch caught off guard. "It doesn't concern you," he said, each word coated in a frost meant to tell Simon to back off.

"I think it does. You lied for me. You got in trouble- and don't deny it- for something that was my fault. Tell me what he did to you."

"It's not important. And how is this possibly your fault? It's not like you were being an arse and like, tripped and gouged your eye out with a pencil or something. That would be your fault. Not getting a toxin sprayed in your eyes by a wild animal."

"It's my fault we were in the damned forest in the first place! If I would have gone looking for the last hare anywhere else, we wouldn't be doing this right now. But no, I had to go and play savior again and look where it's gotten us!" Simon felt something explode inside his chest, and it was powerful enough to leave him feeling like he needed to snap a pencil in half or- or- or something. Make someone else feel the pain that was skating through his veins and filling his heart with poison.

"Nothing was stopping me from changing my mind. I could have told you it was too dangerous. If anyone should know, it's me. Crowley, Snow, I could have taken us to the catacombs. Honestly, it's the last place we haven't looked yet."

Simon let out a shout and ripped his hand out of Baz's. "Damn it, damn it, damn it all! Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" He pushed a hand through his hair in frustration. It was either that or punch a wall, and his knuckles would just hate him later if he did.

"Simon! Calm down!" Baz tried to put an arm around his shoulders but Simon threw him off.

"Don't. Touch. Me." he said, each word punctuated with a venomous pause. In a distant corner of his mind he was aware that he was panting, his entire body shaking with the weight of each breath forced in and out of his lungs.

"Fine, fine. I'm not, okay?" Baz gave a nervous laugh. "We can drop this right now, like it never even happened. Just breathe, alright? No more blame-game for either of us."

Simon sucked air through his clenched teeth, tried to force the anger out through his toes. Counted to ten, tried to clear his mind, then counted to ten again. Slower. It was a few minutes before he trusted himself to speak without blowing up. "Let's just get to class." And may the Fey be damned if it didn't come out as dull and lifeless as he now felt without the anger to animate him.

They walked the rest of the way in silence and it was an annoyed one too, in Simon's opinion. He was annoyed that he couldn't control himself from having an outburst right in plain sight for anyone to see, annoyed that he had to hold Baz's hand in order to get anywhere, annoyed that there wasn't a cure yet. Most of all, he was annoyed that he had turned out to be such a rubbish hero in general. Baz seemed to sense the inner edge that Simon was toeing and wisely decided to stay silent.

They arrived at Miss Possibelf's room to more fanfare than chemistry had brought. Clearly students had caught on to the return of their newly disabled champion. _What luck._

As Baz was walking Simon to his seat, Miss Possibelf's voice rang out, rich and clear, the same lyrical tone she always sported making it difficult to tell if she felt any surprise to see two boys, one she hadn't had as a pupil in many years, walk into her room hand in hand. Like this bizarre, unending game of follow the leader was a regular occurrence for her.

"Simon, dear, you're back! We're so happy to see you are feeling better; you were missed terribly. And Basil! It's been so long... What are you- oh, I see." Baz slid the chair out for Simon and helped him into his desk. "How kind of you. Simon, you're awfully lucky to have such a thoughtful roommate."

Baz laughed. "Trust me, he knows."

Simon grinned. "Only because you won't stop reminding me. I'll tell you, conceited is his biggest character flaw."

"Alright now." Miss Possibelf scolded, but only half-heartedly. It wasn't hard to imagine her beaming smile. She must have been thrilled that her wish for the two of them to become friends instead of bickering eleven-year-olds ready to slit each other’s throats had panned out. "Baz, you should get to where you need to be. And take this before you go." She recited the 'don't shoot the messenger' spell over a slip of paper that many teachers used to serve as their pass to grant kids late acceptances to class. "If Professor Benedict gives you a hard time be sure to have him call me."

"Thanks, and will do. I'll be back for you later, Snow." Baz gave Simon a squeeze on the shoulder before leaving.

And then, in the silence right before Miss Possibelf began teaching, Simon heard it. _Fags._ It was one word, simple and short, whispered for the sake of a few giggles, but the hate behind it was loud and clear. It took Simon's breath away because on some level it had been what he was fearing since this whole guidance thing got started all along. Miss Possibelf began speaking but Simon wasn't listening anymore. He was too busy caught in the threads of ignorance, spiraling downward in the causality of an insult that hits its mark.

Just why...why did people have to be inconsiderate? It was the 21st century, no one should still be using slurs the likes of faggot. Contemptuous and degrading, the term was so ingrained into the present culture that it spun Simon's mind. Did he ever think that someone would use it in reference to him? No, but then again one didn't expect to walk past a busy playground and hear it being hurled by elementary students either. Neither did one particularly want to see it scrawled across bathroom stalls or spray painted on lockers. But it was a sad fact of life that those things did happen. But these were _teenagers_. More than that. They were almost adults, not to mention ones who should definitely know better. So then why did they have to go and make assumptions in the first place? It was obvious that Simon needed someone to help him get around and Baz was a pretty clear choice for that position. After all, the Crucible had cast them together. Everyone knew this. They were meant to watch out for each other, protect each other, keep each other out of harm's way. Even the Mage had said as much.

And besides, Simon and Baz didn't like each other. That idea was so ridiculous it had shot past laughable and was now orbiting preposterous. Everyone knew that Simon Snow and Tyrannous Basilton Pitch III hated each other.    

Well, maybe 'hate' wasn't the right word. But they certainly didn't like each other either. They were just friends, that was all there was to it. Suddenly Simon's mind shot to Baz's fingers resting on his chest and his stomach flipped over. Okay, so maybe it was more. But only on Simon's part. Right? Because in all honesty, Baz would never like him in that way. It was too much to hope for. But there had been something in the way he was acting lately, something about the banter that was a little _more_ than normal taunting, that couldn't help but make Simon think that maybe, just maybe, Baz had felt it too. But there was no way of telling if there was any merit to that instinct. After all, Simon had been wrong before. So for now he would just have to settle for friends. Friends until proven otherwise. _Friends with an asterisk,_ his mind whispered.

"Alright, class." Miss Possibelf cut into Simon's thoughts, dragging him back to a present he didn't want to participate in anymore. "Now who can tell me what the key is to creating your own spells?"

"That's easy." It was Felicity Clemmings, voice high and grating, much like her need to always be right. She drove Penny bonkers. "If you want to make your own spells, you have to truly mean what you're saying. It's much like casting regular spells. Everyone knows that you can put a slight twist on any spell by properly summoning the right feelings."

There was a unspoken groan from the class, the kind that all students share when particularly pained but have the good sense not to let the teacher catch on to. "Well, you are on the right track. It's very important what degree of meaning a magician puts behind his or her spells. But you can't just 'summon up the feelings' so to speak. Not quite. You must have a harmony between meaning and power. And by power I mean history."

Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she started pacing- classic professor lecture style. "It's baffling how phrases are coined. Whether it be new terminology or a simply curious arrangement of words, humans have always made homes in their hearts for the things they have taken a liking to. Being magicians, that is splendid news for us. These phrases have had practically eons to stew and collect their power, becoming so well-known and ingrained that summoning their meaning is just merely dusting off their surface and voila! Good as new. As always, our job is to tap into that reservoir and let it fuel our spells and their intentions."

Simon felt his attention slipping away again. It was just too hard to focus when it felt like every eye in the room was fixed on him. Obviously that couldn't be the case, but it still felt like it. Each whisper made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he couldn't help but think they were all speculations about the relationship status of him and his roommate. Simon didn't know why he was letting this get to him so much. He'd dealt with rumors and gossip before and if anything it had felt just as targeted then as it did currently. Maybe it was because this time around he couldn't stare these people down. There was something humiliating about not being able to give people the sense of shame one gets when they realize that their private cruelties has reached the ears of its subject. He was probably just being paranoid; the whole world wasn't made up of homophobes. Just...an unfortunately significant portion. But regardless, the uncomfortable feelings of being the focus of an entire class room, accurate or not, were enough to make him want to scurry away. He just wanted the privacy of his own room and the sense of ease it brought about. Baz was right, he was becoming a hermit. Simon grinned in spite of himself; that git would say he’d always been right.

“Simon?” It was Miss Possibelf, concern underscoring her questioning. “It’s time to go. Class has ended.”

“What?” Had he really stopped paying attention for an entire hour?

“Baz is waiting outside for you. He seems a little concerned.”

“Okay.” Simon got out of his chair and grabbed his cane. He wanted to try making it to the door on his own, but Miss Possibelf grabbed an elbow to help guide him.

“I’m so glad to see that you and Basilton are finally friends.”

“Hmm. Just the chummiest type.”

“What’s wrong? Was I too presumptuous?” He could hear a frown clinging to the words.

“No, we are, it’s just that I’ve got a lot going on right now. I’m sorry it came out like we aren’t. I didn’t intend for it to.”

“Oh, Simon.” She heaved a tiny sigh, and Simon braced himself. “I’m so sorry about your eyesight. The Mage told me about what happened and it sounds awful. You don’t deserve any of this in your life all things considered, but if it’s any consolation, I can’t think of anyone with a stronger will to endure than you. Other students, well, generally speaking, I don’t think they would have come back to school. You’re a brave boy, Simon, remember that.”

"Yeah..." _Brave_. He hadn't felt so weak in all his life.

Miss Possibelf cleared her throat. For a woman who was so good with magic words, she often had a hard time with regular contexts. "Take care of yourself. Promise me that you won't blame yourself, you hear? I know how you are. And all you can do is give it your best shot every day. Same goes for all of us. People often beat themselves up over something that wasn't their fault and it always does more harm than good."

"Okay," he said, edging out the doorway. "See you on Monday." Once free, Simon took Baz's hand and they headed back to their room together.

When they been walking for a little bit, Baz spoke up in a tentative voice. "She made good points you know."

So apparently they were going to go there again. "Oh, is that so?" Simon said, trying to keep his voice light and conversational, but already his earlier annoyance was creeping back in. He didn't need anybody's sympathy.

"I mean you are kind of being too hard on yourself. And instead of focusing on the tragedy itself, we should be looking at all the progress you've been making. Just think how far you've come!"

"Right. That's why I have to hold your hand like we're a couple everywhere we go. Because I'm just _so_ well adjusted to my surroundings."

"You just have to give it some time; don't set unrealistic expectations for yourself. Besides, you aren't running into things in our room anymore. That's progress." He gave Simon's hand a squeeze, almost like an afterthought. "And nobody thinks we're a couple."

"That's debatable. In fact, you can take it up with the guy who called us faggots just a while ago. He seemed to have a different idea."

Baz stiffened and spit out the word 'what.' He didn't say it like it was a question. He said it like a statement. Like he couldn't believe anybody would have gotten the wrong idea.

"Yeah, I know. How could they have possibly gotten that idea? If only there was something we were doing that might make it seem like we were in a relationship, even a low-key one...oh wait..."

Baz resumed walking again. "Just ignore them. They aren't worth your time. Especially since it's not true."

"But- but- they're lying! The whole school will think we're shagging by tomorrow!"

"Don't be melodramatic, Snow, it doesn't suit you. Stop caring so much about what other people think of you, it'll do you wonders."

"Then tell me, _Pitch_ ," Simon sneered, “tell me that if the roles were reversed you wouldn’t feel the same way. And be sure to look me in the eyes when you answer- you’ll get the full effect that way.”

There was a moment of silence and Simon knew that Baz was doing just that. He willed himself not to shift his gaze, to convey all his pain in one single look. And just when he thought Baz wasn’t going to take his bait, he spoke up.

“I wouldn’t.”

Simon blinked, shifted his eyes. “You don’t really mean that.”

“But I do. I truly, completely would not care what anyone else thought of me, Tyrannous Basilton Pitch III, holding hands with Simon Snow, the greatest magician in a hundred ages. I wouldn’t. I don’t care if they think I fuck you senseless every single night. All that matters is the truth. You and I know it, and so do all the people that matter. So there. Now can we step into the room? I have an idea I’d like to try.”

“That’s always dangerous.” Simon quipped, letting himself be guided into their room.

“Shut up. As I was saying, I wouldn’t care if people thought we were dating just because I’ve been walking you to class. That’s trivial. But I suppose I would be having a hard time handling losing my eyesight if it happened to me. And I was thinking that after your outburst, I ought to be trying to fix it since no one else in this bloody school seems to be attempting anything. Now sit down already, Snow,” he said, giving Simon a light shove that didn’t really offer a choice. “Anyway, I thought I’d repurpose some spells. Given that the general blindness related ones didn’t work, I thought that it was time to get creative. Did you know that you can change what a spell does if you focus your intent enough?”

Simon felt his cheeks redden. “I think we covered that in Miss Possibelf’s today but I wasn’t really listening.”

Baz laughed. “Why does that not surprise me? If you don’t mind, I gave this a lot of thought and I think I’ve come up with some that might work this time. May I?”

“Be my guest.”

Baz cleared his voice. “ _If there’s a will there’s a way.”_

Just for a second, the merest of mere moments, Simon thought the darkness was lifting. But no. It was just him getting his hopes up once more. They were such persistent little fellows.

“Did it work? You seemed less...heavy for a bit, but maybe I was just imagining it.”

Simon forced himself to smile. “No. At first I thought it was, but nope. You were foiled again.”

“Hmm. Okay. I really think this one might do it, though. _For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”_

Nothing. Nothing but an unending, interminable darkness stretched in front of Simon’s eyes and suddenly he saw that the reality of his life, from that point onward, would always be filled with relying on someone else. If it was enough to bring Gloucester to his knees, why not Simon, too?

“I’m not on the right track. I should have put some more thought into them first.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Simon didn’t care that he was being spiteful. Something had to burn.

When Baz ventured to speak again it was with a fragile voice, like he was the one with an entire prophecy riding on a few magic words. “And I should have taken into account that it wasn’t close enough to the accident to have an effect.”

Simon let out a shout of anguish. “Why do you keep calling it that?”

“Because that’s the word people use to describe an incident that no one is at fault for.”

“But it was my fault! Why can’t you see that? I should’ve done something, _anything_ , to fight back- hell, I should have just kept my eyes closed! Then none of this would have happened and I wouldn’t be screwed for the rest of my life. You know, assuming I somehow survive the Humdrum without even being able to see him!”

Baz hesitated for a moment and when he spoke his tone was calm and low, near normal enough to fool anyone who didn't know him well enough, but something ran through it that Simon had never heard before. “Simon, I think you need to see someone about this."

“Yeah, an optometrist.”

“I’m being serious. I think you’re under a lot of stress right now and seeing a therapist could help you to ease some of it.”

“I’m not going to see some shrink. What is that possibly going to help? It’s not like they’ll be able to understand anything I’m going through.” Simon put on his best pinched, know-it-all voice. “ _The reason you’re struggling so hard to accept your new permanent state is because you were never loved as a child._ I don’t need a psychiatrist to tell me I’ve got problems, I need a time machine to fix this so it never happened.”

“Simon,” Baz sank down next to his roommate. “Please stop. You have to put this behind you; it’s in the past now. But if it’s any consolation, I blame myself. Every minute of every day, I wish I would have stayed by your side when we were running from the Manticore. Maybe then I would have been able to reach you in time.”

"Baz- what- that's not your-"

"Fault? Yeah, I know. But it still feels like it sometimes. The point is that we have to end this cycle of guilt before it drives us apart again. Fate lined up weirdly that day and no one could have known where events were going to lead. That's life. It's not your fault and it's not mine. But please. You have to stop this. Simon, _you're hurting me._ "

Out of all the words in the world, those were pretty high on the list of things Simon never would have dreamed that Baz would say to him. Baz was strong and tough and untouchable. He hardly ever cried as far as Simon knew, didn't even let his knickers get in a twist. But why now? He and Simon had gotten into plenty of fights over the years and occasionally Simon would win, as few and far between as those instances were. It must have certainly hurt then. But not now, not over something as insignificant as seeing his roommate eaten up with regret. Simon felt his chin start to quiver and he screwed his eyes shut. Oh Gods of the Great Celestial Plains, he didn't need to have a breakdown on top of everything else.

"Simon?" It was a whisper, so small and fragile, and it was the plea that broke his tear ducts.

The next thing he knew, he was sobbing into Baz's chest, and it wasn't the pretty kind either. The tears Simon let out were in mourning for everything he had lost and everything he would never have again. It was a letting go of the bitterness he had allowed to fester inside himself ever since he was told the bad news. Each sob tore at his throat, at his soul. He was drowning, drowning and couldn't bring himself to care.

"Shhh. Simon, it's okay. I'm here, I'm right here." Baz ran a hand up and down Simon's shuddering back, tucked his chin over the head buried against his chest.

He let himself cry and didn't care that he was probably getting snot all over Baz's uniform. What did it matter when he'd never live to see another soccer game or Christmas Feast? He'd never get to see the ocean, never find out if it was as big and blue as he dreamed it'd be. He was sixteen and blind. The rest of his life would be spent learning Braille and taking the bus.

He didn't know how long he'd been weeping for, but at some point Simon noticed that Baz was rocking them back and forth, his warmth helping to chase away the chill that clung to Simon's skin. With each repeated "I'm here" from his roommate, his shaking was growing calmer and all that was left in the place of tears were those little hysterical hiccups one gets after an intense cry.

Baz stopped moving but didn't pull away. "How are you doing?"

"Tired."

"You look it."

Simon shifted his head onto Baz's shoulder. "Thanks. You really know how to make a friend feel special."

"It's a gift. You ought to consider getting some sleep because tomorrow we're going to breakfast, no exceptions."

Simon started. "You still want to guide me? After I had a meltdown in your arms?"

"Simon, you're only human. Of course I still want to help you. Now lie down and get some rest." He began to pull away but with inch of space added, Simon quickly couldn't stand the thought of the coldness coming back.

"Please." He shot a hand out catching Baz's forearm. "Stay. I don't want to be alone right now."

He was almost regretting his lame request when there was the sound of the light clicking off and a rustling of covers. "Well, c'mon. Some of us need our beauty sleep."

Simon kicked his shoes off and slid into bed. He was debating on whether or not he could get away with snuggling, but seeing as how he didn't want to impose on personal boundaries, he choose instead to remain as close to the edge as possible, limbs tucked tightly against his body.

"I meant it when I said I'd be here for you." Baz whispered.

"Even if it gets worse?"

"Especially if it gets worse."

They'd been through so much; the good and the bad, the high and the low, the ugly and the uglier still. It was a journey of a thousand steps, and they'd been walking it side by side the whole time. Maybe that was why the Crucible cast people together. Not just to be each other's life savers, but to be lifelong companions as well.

As Simon fell asleep, he wondered if his crush was reciprocated. It was well past time to admit his feelings- at least to himself- so he might as well call it what it was. A giant, growing-with-each-day, out of control crush. He wanted to kiss Baz like he'd never wanted to kiss anyone before. He wanted to go on dates with him and hold his hand and have Baz want it in return. He wanted everything and anything, but not at the price of what they currently had. What if he confessed his feelings only to have Baz be horrified and want nothing to do with Simon ever again? Or worse, what if he laughed? What if Baz packed up his things and moved, out of their room and out of Simon's life forever? He wouldn't know what to do with himself anymore. It was a definite possibility that Baz might mean more to Simon than Simon meant to Baz.

"Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping. Remember?" Baz said, breaking Simon’s obsessive cycle of thoughts.

"I am."

"Liar. Don't try to trick a vampire. Your heartbeat gives you away every time."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to eavesdrop?" Simon's eyes were getting heavy. He was too tired for these kinds of games.

Baz yawned before answering. "Probably, but one thing we both have in common is a remarkable tendency to not listen to advice, no matter how well intentioned."

Simon didn't answer that, but rather laid there listening to the soft inhale and exhale of the boy who was fast becoming his savior lull him to sleep. And just as he was on the brink of unconsciousness, Baz rolled over and grabbed Simon's hand, folding it in his own.

That was...new. There was no need for him to do so, it wasn't like Simon was going anywhere. That only left one conclusion; either Baz was going soft or he was getting tender. And there was a big difference between the two. One meant friends and the other meant lovers. _Or he might have just done it in his sleep,_ Simon thought, _like a force of habit or whatever._ Cats, bats, and cellar rats, he was going to drive himself mad before long.

Baz shifted, drawing closer to Simon. "I'm always here," he mumbled, "always."

And while that might not be exactly what Simon wanted to hear, it would have to be enough for now.

 

****************

 

The next few weeks passed in a haze. Simon had been checking in with Dr. Lymons every Tuesday and Friday in order to help deal with his problems. According to her, he had developed a moderate to severe form of depression in response to a traumatic situation which- she was quick to point out- was not unusual. At his first session, she had him fill out a questionnaire and was very careful in all her responses. Simon liked her. She listened.

But it wasn't perfect. He didn't know how long his depression might last for, if it even went away at all. But that was okay. Dr. Lymons was teaching him methods to take better care of himself and was discussing starting him on medications in the upcoming weeks. She did, however, mention that medication was not to be used as a complete fix. Simon would have to start making strong efforts in retraining his brain, especially in areas of positive thinking, if he wanted to see more permanent results. He had his ups and downs, and as of right now, downs were still in the lead.

And today was one of those days. It was a miserable and rainy Thursday afternoon, and as much as Simon tried, he just couldn't pull himself out of his gloom. It permeated his thoughts as much as the rain enveloping Watford, lashing at the windows and making the whole castle smell of worms and muck.

He was in his room, too restless to really concentrate on getting anything done. After pacing the room a few dozen times, Simon settled beneath the window, tilting his head against the sill. And it pissed him off- the weather, his mood, the futility of a fight against his own brain. He was so damn _exhausted_ all the time. It seemed like all the sleep in the world couldn't fix the bags beneath his eyes.

It felt like Baz had been gone for ages. He had dashed off to soccer practice shortly after dropping Simon off- _couldn't miss the last practice before their opening game,_ he had said. Which was another thing eating at Simon. He felt like dead weight. But he understood; why invite your blind friend to go to your sports match when it's not like he'll be able to see what's going on anyway? But what he wouldn't give to watch Baz in his element again, forwarding the ball with ease, muscles gliding beneath his uniform. All power and agility wrapped into one lithe blur of speed.

Except it was a sight that could only be brought to reality in the scope of Simon's memory, and it was one that was losing its focus on a daily basis. At first it was slight, with just colors beginning to get dimmer and objects losing their sharpness, but other than that, he hadn't been bothered. It wasn't until he first realized that he was forgetting faces when he truly become perturbed.

He tried to keep his worries in check when the features of acquaintances disappeared one by one, but it was when he started forgetting the visage of people close to him that he started to panic. First it was the Mage and then it was Elspeth, before taking Agatha and Lucinda, too. He tried so, so hard to hold on to the picture of Penny as he last remembered her, but before long she was gone too.

And now as he sat on his bedroom floor, he didn't try to stop the tears from coming. Baz was gone from his mind as surely as the sun during a storm, relegated to just another voice among the featureless crowd in his mind. Sure Simon could remember the hook of his nose or the pale of his skin, but the full picture was wiped out. Baz was an incomplete jigsaw puzzle and all Simon could ever hope for was a flash of grey eyes or a hint of smile to show the way again.

When the door to the room opened and shut with a thud, Simon didn't hear it over his racking sobs.

"Oi, Snow! What are you doing on the floor?" Baz called, cheerful against all odds. "Haven't you heard that the Vengeful Sprites are going to make it to Magicks Regionals this year? Why you ought to- Oberon's might, Simon, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"That's debatable." Simon choked out.

There was a general commotion of what he assumed to be Baz throwing his equipment in the first available space he could find. Their room really hadn't been up the usual Pitch standards of cleanliness lately. Or so he'd been told.

"C'mon. Tell me what's wrong." Baz was kneeling right in front him, the chill from outside still clinging to him.

"It's nothing."

"No, it's not. You're upset, let me fix it."

For some absurd reason Simon felt like one of the foxes from the Mage's annual hunt, a cornered animal with nothing left to lose. "You can't fix this," he spat out.

"I can't if you don't tell me what it is."

"You're not my therapist."

Baz sighed, warming the air between them. "You're right; I'm not. But I'm a friend. And I think that counts for something."

"I'm afraid that you won't understand. That'll you'll think I'm overreacting." On the last word, more tears escaped his control.

"Simon. I'm always here, remember?"

"What if you aren't?"

Baz answered with the same measured amount of calm that he had been since he walked in the door. "But what if I am?"

Simon hesitated. For one brief second he thought about not mentioning it, instead going on like things hadn't changed. But they had, and he couldn't keep pretending anymore. "Baz, I can't remember what you look like anymore."

Silence. And then, "Just me or everyone?"

"Everyone. But like, bits and pieces. I can still see the shade of Agatha's hair or the shape of Rhy's cheekbones, but I can't remember how it all fits. It's like no one's face is put together right anymore. Like a bunch of moths got into my memories and ate holes in your appearance."

"What if," Baz murmured, weighing each word carefully, "you were able to use tactile sensation to regain your memories?"

"What do you mean?" Simon knew exactly what his roommate meant, but he wasn't sure if he had heard right.

"I mean what if you could touch someone's face to discern their features? Do you think that might help? I mean, theoretically of course..."

"I don't know." Simon's mouth had gone dry. "I suppose I would have to try it to find out."

Baz picked up Simon's hand and lightly placed it to his face. "You could start with me. I don't mind."

Simon shifted onto his knees. Tried to swallow and found he was just downing air. And then he began to move his fingertips. Slowly, slowly he moved them across Baz's face, taking in the steep nose and high cheekbones. He moved them over the smooth forehead and down to Baz's neck, stopping to skim his jaw line. And just as slowly, he began to see Baz's face take form again, appearing like a mirage in the desert.

He really, really hoped that Baz had been lying about hearing heartbeats because otherwise he would definitely be able to discern Simon's going at a rate more akin to running a marathon than just sitting. Simon slid his hands into Baz's still damp hair but was stopped from going any further when he bumped his nose into Baz's.

"Simon?"

"Yes?" He could feel each breath as it broke across his skin.

"You do know I can hear your heartbeat, right?"

"Well, shit."

And then they were kissing. It was soft and sweet, and everything a first kiss should be, complete with a head full of nothing and everything all at once. Simon felt like his entire being could only ever focus on the boy in front of him for the rest of his life, could only ever kiss those lips, that jaw _._ And it seemed like Baz was just as thrilled with developments, if not more so. Simon felt a tugging on his lower lip and it took him a minute to figure out that the small whimper was coming not from himself but from Baz. He slid his arms up Baz's back and let him in, dragging a heavy hand up to cup his face. If moans were permission, then Simon was granted full access. Baz pulled at Simon's shirt, popping some of the buttons off in his frenzy to get at what lay beneath, and Simon worked with him, helping to get the troublesome top off before returning the favor. He felt Baz grin against his mouth when he went hard, before breaking off and starting to suck at the skin on Simon's neck. _It felt so good_. Baz pulled Simon onto his lap and suddenly whose hands were where didn't matter. Everything was a blur of motion and emotion, senses and sensations.

When both boys finally broke away, it was Simon who ventured to speak first. "If I would have known that all the times you were being mean you were actually just sexually frustrated, I would have provoked you a hell of a lot more often."

"Mmmm." Baz moved his mouth against Simon's collarbone.

"Are you okay?"

"Perfectly so."

Somehow Simon couldn't agree more.

 

************

 

The next day was more of the same. And the next. And the next. It got to the point where every time that Simon and Baz were behind closed doors (or mostly closed doors), they were making out to say the least. It was practically heady.

The whole school knew about it within a few weeks of course. The halls were reverberating with whispers of _Simon and Baz are finally banging each other!_ He even knew for a fact that Melvin Briggstone, an eighth year with a penchant for delinquency, had been placing bets on it as far back as two years ago, that cad. But gratefully there had been more polite responses. From other couples coming out to just impressed glances, it seemed like he and Baz had set off a chain reaction. And Penny and Agatha couldn't have been more thrilled. The day he and Baz went official Agatha had come squealing up to them in the dining hall, wrapping both of them in a bear hug and asking when Simon had finally taken his head out of his arse long enough to figure things out. Penelope had just grinned and said that _she'd_ known since fourth year, maybe earlier. All things considered, Simon had to admit that it was nice to be around them again; he'd missed their company without even realizing it.

Things definitely weren't perfect though. It was taking some getting used to, this practically exhibitionist attitude the school was exuding. Sometimes he still got uncomfortable walking around with Baz, whispers trailing them like leaves on a windy day, although he always tried his best not to let it show. And when Simon learned that someone had spray painted slurs onto Baz's gym locker, he had wanted to call it quits in the public sense, until Baz had talked him out of it by saying that 'no fucking homophobes had the right to take away their happiness.'

Regardless of any doubts to the contrary, the benefits far outweighed the negatives, especially when Simon was away from the public eye. He liked getting up in the morning and being able to kiss his boyfriend awake for class. He liked getting to see the sensitive side of Baz, the part that he normally kept hidden away from the rest of the world. It was like a secret only he was privy to. And just as relationships tend to be a two way street, there was something supremely relieving in not having to be…something he wasn’t anymore. He didn’t have to be powerful or invincible or live up to his stupid title when he was around Baz. Not that he ever had to before, but dating was like removing an extra wrapper. It felt like ripping off a label he’d never wanted in the first place because Simon had always been worried that whomever he’d fall in love with would always see him as the Mage’s Heir on some level, no matter how close they were. But Baz. Baz was different. Ideal even. He couldn’t care less about any of that and it was so freeing to be with someone who saw all of your flaws and still loved you in spite of- and occasionally because of- them.

And perhaps the most important part of their relationship was respect. Baz accepted Simon’s depression and the fact that there would be days where Simon was just sad for no reason and not feeling up to much of anything just like Simon accepted that Baz was a vampire and would always have to rely on the blood of other creatures for sustenance. Sometimes it amazed Simon that they- two boys hurting in distinctly different ways- could have the good luck to find each other and learn to love despite the pain. The odds were astounding and each and every day Simon felt blessed to have come so far.

Currently he and Baz were sitting outside with Penelope and Agatha, enjoying the mild spring weather and a rare afternoon where all of them were free from studies at the same time. Penelope was reading from her advanced spell works book, occasionally tweaking a spell to see if it would have any effect on Simon, and Baz and Aggie were trying to solve a crossword together. All in all, Simon hadn’t felt so relaxed in longer than he could remember.

“Now we need a nine letter word that means: confused or addled, often synonymous for a discombobulated state of mind.” Baz said, absentmindedly clicking his pen.

“How about perplexed?”

“Nice one but it doesn’t fit. We already have the third letter as an ‘f’.”

“I can’t think of anything else.” Agatha replied, her voice soft and low. “Maybe we made a mistake earlier.”

Penelope paused in her recitations. “Have you tried ‘befuddled’ yet?”

“Perfect. Thanks, Penny, you’re way more accurate than Google.”

Simon heard the beginnings of what he guessed was Baz giving Agatha a reprimand for what he called cheating, before turning his attention back to Penelope. “You know I appreciate your efforts but can we be done now? I don’t really want to do this anymore.”

Penelope shut her book with a soft thud. “Of course; although I’ve been thinking lately that maybe a spell isn’t the right solution. I’m going to start researching ancient natural remedies next week, maybe poke around in Persian lore where Manticores are thought to have originally come from.”

“Don’t wear yourself out; it probably won’t work and I don’t want you sacrificing your grades for my sake.”

“It’s not a sacrifice if I want to do it so you might as well quit wasting your breath trying to change my mind,” Penelope pointed out before changing the subject. “Are you practicing Braille like I said you ought to be?”

“Not really.”

“Simon! Did you not just say that you think you’re going to be blind for the rest of your life? What are you going to do, never read another book for as long as you live?”

Simon gave a sly smile. “They do make such a thing as audio books you know.”

“Oh no, I know what the real issue here is. Baz! You’ve been spoiling him and reading everything out loud to him haven’t you?”

“Well, of course. I can’t resist him. And besides, it’s almost always worth my while if you know what I mean.”

“Oh gross, stop.” Agatha fake gagged. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”

“Get your head out of the gutter, Wellbelove. I just meant that I like reading poetry to Simon because it always leaves him emotional and seeing him moved by words happens to be a special kink of mine.”

“And here I thought you just did that for the blow jobs that always follow afterwards.” Simon pouted.

“Alright, now I’m done, too.” Penelope said, getting to her feet.

“You don’t have to go.” Baz apologized, “We’ll stop, promise.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s getting late and I want to do some serious knitting tonight. I have a sweater to finish sometime before I die.”

Agatha began gathering up her things as well, echoing that she had to start getting ready for her date anyway. Once both girls were gone, Simon climbed into Baz’s lap and fit his back against his boyfriend’s chest.

“How are you feeling?” Baz murmured, dipping his lips into Simon’s hair.

“I’m okay. I mean, like, it’s not great, but I’ve had worse days so I can’t complain I suppose.”

“Oh?”

“Well, right now it’s difficult to be around people. I just feel…easily drained lately, like some giant battery that runs down with interaction. It’s frustrating.” Simon paused before continuing, trying to come up with the right words to describe his feelings. “And then sometimes I have sad periods, but they feel more melancholic than sad really, and they’re absolutely awful because it’s really hard to make myself do anything when I’m experiencing one. But the worst part of all is the hopeless feeling that accompanies them. I know it’s just the depression talking, but I can’t help thinking how much better off you would be without me dragging you down, or how if I just died already I wouldn’t have to feel all this _pain_ anymore.”

Baz stiffened, his arms tightening around Simon's torso. “Did you tell Dr. Lymons about this?”

“I mean, yeah, she’s going to start me on some medications soon, but I plan to keep seeing her until I start getting better. I don't want to totally rely on pills to fix this."

“Okay, okay. That’s good… Can I tell you something and will you promise to try not to get mad at me?”

“Go ahead.”

“Truthfully I’m a little worried about you. I love you so much Simon, so very much, and if I’m saying this earlier than you’d like I apologize, but I won’t take it back because I can’t. I have never felt this way about someone in my entire life. I’ve always thought I was broken, or damaged on some level, because I tend not to feel as deeply about things as other people do. I mean, I can be really moved by books and stuff, but I don’t generally cry over real things and I was worried that this…apathy…would carry over into all of my relationships. I’ve had a few boyfriends before but they’ve always felt deeper for me than I did for them. But you’re different. I can’t explain it, but I know that you’re something special. When I look at you, there is something inside of me that goes all tender, and I know it’s clichéd but I want to love you forever. I know it's next to impossible given the odds of lasting high school relationships, but I don't care. I want to make it work. I want to go where you go, and live every day like we have all the time in the world. I want to know your favorite songs so well that we sing them on the top of our lungs not caring who might hear. I want you to wake me up at three am in the morning just to tell me how much you love me because you couldn't sleep and us was the only thing on your mind. I want to run in moonlight fields and walk the edge of river banks and explore forests with you. I want every part of you and your life but even more, I want so much to never stop loving you."

Baz inhaled shakily before continuing. “But my point is that I’m scared I’m going to lose you. I want you to know that I will take you in every form you’re in, whether it be happy Simon, blind Simon, chronically depressed Simon, or whatever, I don’t care. Obviously I want you to get better, but I think you should know that I love you no matter what. Your being mentally ill does not diminish that in any way. I will go on loving melancholic you until the day I die, but I can’t love you if you’re dead. And when you said those words, that if you were dead you wouldn’t have to hurt anymore, I kind of panicked a bit. You sound a little suicidal. I mean, if I’m reading this incorrectly definitely let me know, but Simon? _I can’t lose you._ I just can’t.”

Simon twisted around so that he was facing Baz. “I would be lying if I told you that I haven’t had suicidal thoughts. They’re not very serious yet, certainly nothing along the lines of actually killing myself. They're mostly about how I wish I didn’t exist, like a constant mantra of 'I want to be dead, I want to be dead, I want to be dead'. I keep trying to remind myself of all I have to live for- you, Penny and Agatha, defeating the Humdrum- but they won't go away. I planned on bringing it up to Dr. Lymons next Tuesday to get a second opinion on it.”

Baz didn’t say anything for a few minutes and when Simon went to bring his hands up to cup Baz’s face, he found that his cheeks were wet with tears. _Baz who didn't cry over real things_ , _Baz who thought he didn't feel things correctly, Baz who was always too hard on himself, moved to sorrow at someone else's pain_. He really didn't give himself enough credit. Simon wiped them away before resting his forehead against his boyfriend’s.

“It’s not fair,” Baz sighed. “You have to go through so much already. The Insidious Humdrum, the pressure of being the Mage’s Heir, losing your eyesight, and now this. Why you? Why do you have to be the one to fix everyone’s problems?”

“We don’t get to choose our burdens, Baz. Besides, I could say similar for the little boy who lost his mother to the very thing he was turned into. Life’s hardly ever fair.”

Baz didn't say anything for a moment, but whether or not he was mulling over what Simon had pointed out or trying to further defend his claims, Simon couldn't tell.

When he spoke again, the words came out as a whisper. “I just wish I could make it better."

“Me too, me too. For both of us." Simon pressed against Baz’s shoulders until he reclined back, giving them room to curl up together. “I guess we’ll just have to deal with what we’ve got.”

“I suppose so,” Baz sighed, trailing off into a silence that said more than words ever could.

But it soon became a comfortable one, the kind that happens when you know someone so well that you don't need to talk to fill up the spaces. Simon let his mind wander, listening to the chirping of the birds in the trees and the scent of blooming flowers fill him. It was nice to let things be and not worry about what tomorrow might bring for once. He felt...at peace for the moment. Wasn't this called mindfulness, when you were so in tune with the present that you were able to let go of the hurt for at least the time being? It was quite blissful.

Baz ran a hand up and down Simon's back, bringing a shiver to his spine as he remembered the boy's earlier confession. _Baz had said he loved me._ Maybe not in the typical, three-words-as-the-sun-sets-and-music-swells kind of way, but somehow it was better like this. It was raw and unexpected, and Simon almost couldn't believe that he had said it. Sure, he had been hoping it would happen soon, but after two months? Practically unbelievable. And especially considering that Baz had dated before. Surely the previous boys had been exceptional; polished jewels fit for a Pitch's collection. If Simon was being completely honest, every once in a while he felt like costume jewelry. Like he was something picked out for a masquerade and any moment now the charade would be up.

But today. Today Baz had said that he loved him. He had said that he wanted to follow Simon out of this nightmare filled with Humdrums and responsibilities they didn't want and into their next stage in life. He had said that he wanted to be by Simon's side no matter what. What he had confessed amounted to loving Simon forever; till death do us part. His heart flipped in his chest and he closed his eyes so Baz wouldn't see that he was tearing up. Maybe he got to be a diamond in the end, after all.

Simon shifted, freeing his left arm from where it had been trapped under Baz's torso. Clearly Baz had feelings, and how he could be convinced otherwise was a mystery to Simon. Baz was compassionate, and caring, and could get jealous like anyone else. Okay, so maybe you had to dig through a few layers first to find out, but that didn't make Baz subhuman. It just meant that he wasn't one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Simon had seen him be spiteful and sarcastic, but he had also seen him considerate and kindhearted. He'd shown himself capable of emotions. In actuality, Simon thought that Baz was a very passionate person hiding beneath a controlled demeanor. If most of the time Baz was prone to witty remarks and biting insults, it just served to furthermore highlight his other feelings. If he was happy, then he was elated, if he was relaxed, then he was content, when he was mad, then he was pissed. In fact, no one at Watford despised the Mage with the ferocity that Baz did. It was quite remarkable really. It had probably been consistent throughout the years knowing Baz, but Simon hadn't picked up on it until their second year. Baz thought the Mage was a sly, devious man whose motives were not in the best interest of the students and Simon would have disagreed up until recently. He had only begun to see it himself back when he was in the infirmary. The Mage had been too concerned with circumstances and not enough with medical priorities to not have raised suspicions. And then how he had insisted on dragging Baz out for a reprimanding when the situation definitely didn't warrant it, especially considering that Simon was old enough to take care of himself and Baz wasn't his nanny. Simon had almost forgotten about that. When he thought about it, Baz never had gotten around to telling him what the Mage had said that day.

Simon propped himself up on an elbow. "Question for you. And now it's your turn to promise not to get mad at me."

"Shoot for it." Baz replied, pressing a kiss to Simon's forehead.

"What did the Mage say to you the day of the incident?"

Baz froze beneath Simon’s fingertips. "It doesn't matter."

"Baz, cut the bullshit. What happened?"

"I...got a demerit. Among other things." He seemed to be picking his words with extreme care.

"What."

"Yeah. I know. Real bugger isn't he? But I'm not worried about it."

Simon scoffed. "How many do you have right now?"

"Six."

"Baz! Two more and you're on probation."

"I'd like to see them try."

Simon rolled his eyes. "I can't say that I like your reckless attitude but how did he give you a demerit if the roommate anathema system declares that injury under watch of roommate is only punishable when within the boundaries of said room?"

"Because he's an arse, Simon, that's why." Baz said, tone quickly edging into exasperated. "Now can we drop it?"

"No, I don't think so. I still want to know what those 'other things' were."

"Well, I don't want to tell you."

Simon would be damned if he were to be dissuaded that easily. "Too bad. You're going to have to."

"It's nothing important, Snow."

"Yes, actually, it is. Relationships are built on trust and I've trusted you enough to share my illness and its progressions, so why can't you trust me with this? I want to be part of your life too you know, and not just the parts you think won't upset me."

Baz exhaled long and hard; he seemed to be steeling himself. After a few minutes had elapsed, he began to speak.

"After we left the infirmary he led me on a walk to his headquarters. He didn’t speak one word or so much as glance in my direction until we were inside his parlor. I assumed he was going to conjure my parents to have an expulsion discussion. But then he started interrogating me. I say interrogate and not reprimand because this was a grilling. He told me that I should have stopped you from getting hurt. That you’re the Mage’s Heir and it was my duty to the school that you don’t befall any harm. You had to have been there to understand, but the way he was talking about you made you seem more like property than a person. And I may have slightly mentioned that fact to which he went from yelling to full on red-in-the-face screaming. As I recall, he even went so far as to accuse me of conspiracy. Some of what he said was along the lines of ‘ _Do you want Simon to be hurt? This goes beyond the petty fights of twelve year olds. If I find that you are in line with the Humdrum or his goals, I will have you kicked out of this school faster than you can say 'great googly moogly.' Nothing about your familial status can save you now, Basilton.’_ At this point he was so close to my face that I could see that big vein in his forehead throbbing in all its hideous glory. And as mad as I was, I bit my tongue, because I could see in his eyes that he was capable of violence. And it turns out I was right. He bade me leave and as I was standing up to go, I shot at him that if he weren’t such a coward maybe he wouldn’t need you to do his job for him. And then he decided to punch me. Right in the face. I didn’t even see it coming otherwise I could have ducked.”  

"He- he hit you?"

"Yeah, Simon, okay? _He hit me._ That's why I didn't want to tell you. I could've hit him back with enough force to shatter the bones in his skull, or torn his throat out with my bare hands, but I held back. You have no idea how hard that was, to not retaliate. It's like trying to swallow bile."

Baz fell silent, but on the inside Simon was enraged. Adrenaline surged through his veins each time the image of Baz being struck replayed in his mind. How dare the man he had so blindly trusted for six years turn into such a monstrosity.

"Simon, are you alright?"

"I hate him." The statement fell easily from his lips, each word spoken with pure conviction.

"As do I."

"I'm going to hex him so hard he'll wake up with his feet on backwards."

Baz gave a bitter laugh. "As long as I can be there to record him attempting to get his shoes on."

"I'm going to set the ten plagues open him." Baz didn't seem to understand how serious Simon was. He had never meant something so completely in his entire life.

"Sweetheart, you can't. You have a mission and unfortunately for now, you need him on your side."

"Fuck his help! I'm going to light his whole fucking world on fire."

"Simon, stop. I'm fine. I assure you that it didn't even hurt at all. I'm a vampire. I can handle far more than he could ever dish out."

" _But he hit you._ "

"I know. It's okay now."

Simon felt like screaming in frustration but he forced himself to remain calm. "It's not right, Baz."

"I know. But it's in the past."

"Chaucer forgive the words about to leave my mouth, but if you’re not going to say it I am. At best he's targeting you, and at worst he's beating other students too!"

"Both thoughts have crossed my mind, yes." Against all odds Baz was still unperturbed.

"How can you be so calm? How are you not burning with rage? Don't you want justice?" Simon cried out, blinking back tears.

"Yes. And I'm confident that I will someday. But right now if I were at this very moment to go and report him, I guarantee you I would be gone tomorrow, expelled for some fabricated reason. Right now he's going to get away with it, but my suspicions are that I'm the only one he's ever hit. After he struck me, he pulled back in shock, seemingly startled by his own outburst."

"Why don't you tell your dad? He's got weight around here." Simon said, digging his nails into his palms to keep from reaching out and shaking Baz.

"Because my father would make himself one more enemy than he already has. Oh, I have no doubt that he would win that fight, especially considering what happened to my mother. Did you know that the Mage was supposed to have been on patrol the night she died? But he had skipped out to go drinking at the pub in town so it was just my poor mum left to fend off an entire coven by herself until back up units arrived. That's why my father hates the Mage so much. He blames him for her death." Baz broke off but when he did resume, the tremble in his voice had disappeared. "So I'm letting you know with utmost faith that telling my father would plunge Watford into a hell it isn't ready for. And for now we can't have that. We need to be as united as possible if we hope to win against the Humdrum."

“I respect that this decision is ultimately yours to make, but let the record show that I think you’re making the wrong choice. I mean honestly, I’m the Mage’s Heir. I bet I could get enough people to support us, enough so that we could bring him to court.”

Baz sighed. “You know, this is kind of why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Because I would call you on your poor decision making skills?”

“Like you’re one to lecture about making good decisions.” Baz deadpanned. “But no, it was because I didn’t want you to worry. And also because I knew you wouldn’t be able to let it go.”

“That’s not- that’s not- I can definitely let it go!” Simon spluttered.

Baz laughed in response to Simon's indignations. “Oh really? Instead of Oliver your middle name should be Obsessive because that’s your default state.”

“Name one time.”

“Okay. Fifth year you followed me in the catacombs every single night. I bet you thought I didn't know.”

Simon felt his face heating up. “That’s because I was checking to make sure you weren’t up to anything.”

“I doubt that’s the only thing you were checking out.” Baz said, leaning over and skimming his mouth down the line of Simon’s neck.

“You stop that. Someone’s going to walk by and then where would we be? You stuck with demerit number seven for indecent displays of affection, that’s where.”

Simon felt Baz grin against the skin above his collar bone. “How scandalous of us. Enjoying a good necking like any typical teenage couple. I think I’m going to have to leave some hickeys here to upset the masses.”

Simon tried to steady his breathing. “Not now please.” This wasn't the place for it.

“Do you not like my craftsmanship? A good artist always signs his work you know.”

Simon untangled himself and sat up. “Crowley no, you’re fantastic. I just don’t really want to right now. Maybe later tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, whenever you want just say the word.” Baz stood up suddenly, sending a flock of birds tittering out from around them. “Go for a walk with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Simon said, letting Baz help him up.

He held onto Baz's hand as they walked, trusting that his boyfriend wouldn't let him run into anything. It really was a nice evening, not too muggy and the breeze provided just the right amount of comfort. As they circuited the grounds, Baz would provide occasional commentary on their surroundings. _The moat is clearing up again,_ he would say while swinging their joined hands, _allowing for some lovely views of those hideous merwolves the school actually thinks is a good idea to keep around_ or breaking off from his humming, he would tell Simon about the new additions to the crumbling facade of the chapel. One thing about a Pitch is that they never failed to amuse.

There was something therapeutic about being in nature. Feeling the springy new grass underfoot, hearing the birds singing, imagining one of them might be a robin; it was infinitely more relaxing than any of the guided meditations he'd done with Dr. Lymons. Simon was finally able to feel the knot of anger in his chest loosen and his thoughts didn't seem so heavy for the first time in a long time. Every so often he and Baz would bump into each other, like their steps couldn't help from drifting closer together.

Suddenly, right in the middle of The Beatles’ _Yellow Submarine_ , Baz came to a halt.

"What is it?" Simon said, trying to imagine why he might have stopped.

"The sunset." Baz whispered, his voice filled with awe. "It's so beautiful tonight."

There was a moment of dead air before Baz realized what he’d said. “Oh. Oh shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t- gods, that was really insensitive of me.”

Simon took a deep breath. He needed to learn to stop taking everything so personally. It wasn’t like Baz had made fun of blind people. “Baz, it’s okay. The world doesn’t stop being beautiful just because I can’t see it.”

“That doesn’t mean I should go around pointing it out all the time!”

“Why not?” Simon asked.

“Because- because-”

Simon leaned over and pressed his lips to Baz’s, effectively silencing the boy, and when he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. “Describe it for me, love.”

“Well, the sun is just about to slip below the horizon so the colors are really intense right now. It’s as radiant as if someone had dropped a lit match and accidentally set the sky ablaze. Right around the edges of the sun it’s this neon yellow shade and that changes into this, like, melted crimson the farther you go out before streaking into violet. It’s extremely pretty. I wish you could see it.”

“I think you did a good job explaining it.” Simon said, tightening his grip on Baz’s hand.

“Yeah, but it’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right. If you really wanted to make it better you’d sing me the Lion King theme.”

Baz gave a soft laugh. “See? Simon ‘Obsessed’ Snow. Is your dark secret that you never grew out of your Disney phase?”

“The only proper response to a great sunset is to sing the Lion King theme song. Everybody knows that. And besides,” Simon teased, “my dirty secret is all the things I want to do to you.”

Suddenly Baz’s mouth was right next to his ear. “I know something we can do right now,” he murmured.

“What’s that?” Simon might’ve thought that his heart had stopped beating if he didn’t know better.

Baz lifted Simon’s arms and put them around his shoulders before placing his hands on Simon’s waist. “Dance with me, darling?”

Simon managed to nod his head and Baz began to sway them in time to something classical he was humming. It had an old feel to it, like couples had been dancing to this melody for ages. Simon leaned his forehead against Baz’s and closed his eyes. There was something about the air that was making him lightheaded. Or maybe it was the company.

Baz brushed his lips against Simon's and all of a sudden Simon felt it, too. He felt more deeply than he ever had in his life, like his heart had been obliterated into pieces only to make room for more love. It felt like there were fireworks in his veins and the words he spoke next came out breathless and quicker then he meant for them to. "Baz, Baz, I love you, too."

"I know."

"But how can you know if I've never said it yet?"

Baz paused a moment before beginning to lightly sway Simon again. "Because I can see it in your eyes, that's how."

And for Simon, the most spectacular sunset in all the world couldn’t live up to the beauty contained within those words.

 

**********

 

It was on a Wednesday night when the unexpected finally happened. Simon was sitting on his bed listening to music, when Baz came bursting into their room, winded like he’d ran all the way to their room from the Green.

“Simon, I’ve got it! By jove, I’ve really got it this time!” he shouted, practically delirious.

Simon reached over and shut the radio off. This had better not be another damn spell. “Please, if this is what I think it’s about, I can’t do it again. I just can’t.”

“But this time I’m sure I’ve got the cure!”

“I can’t get my hopes up anymore. It’s killing me.” Simon squeezed his eyes shut. He was ready to accept circumstances and move on, so why couldn’t Baz? Clearly his boyfriend had been born stubborn.

“Please,” Baz whined.

“No.”

“Just once!” Baz begged. “This will be the last ever; I swear. I’m all out of other options.”

_You’re out of options…_ “Fine. One time and that’s it.”

Baz swooped in for a hug, too excited to make it last very long. “Okay. So you know how the Manticore’s poison caused your vision to be destroyed?”

“I’m blind, not stupid.” Simon said, trying to keep his temper in check.

“ _I know._ But we’ve been seeking out complex solutions for a complicated predicament. But what if we’ve been going about it all wrong? What if we really just needed a simple solution all along?”

Simon couldn’t stop from rolling his eyes. “Nothing has a quick fix, Baz, you know this.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy. It won’t be. You’re going to have to completely trust me on this one. Fully, no half-arsing allowed.”

“What is it?”

“Swear you’ll try first.” Baz said, his tone solemn.

“Fine. I swear.”

Baz sat down next to Simon and leaned in. “ _Seeing is believing._ The trick-”

“That’ll never work!” Simon interrupted. “A second year spell isn’t going to fix something that has even Penelope Bunce stumped.”

“But we’ve been going about it wrong the whole time! You see, the key for you to regain your sight is to _believe_ you can. Full heartedly. One hundred percent.”

“You’re telling me that I’m blind because I’ve chosen to be?” Simon scoffed.

“No! Don’t you get it, Snow? The power was in you the whole time; trust me! It’s like Miss Possibelf says ‘summon the meaning behind the words.’ Please give it a shot. I’m begging you.”

Simon deliberated on that message and then picked up his wand and held it ready. He had to give this his all, his one hundred and ten percent. Did he truly think this could work? No. Yes. Maybe. He took a steadying breath, trying to clear the static from his mind. Why not? Simon had been a magician for six years now. He’d faced evil water sprites, the constant fear of imminent death, and magician finals. Believing in a simple spell was easy. After all, this was magic they were talking about.

He flicked his wrist and said the words as forcefully as he could. “ _Seeing is believing._ ” More than that, though. Believing was seeing. He meant it possibly more than anything he ever had in his entire life. Maybe even more than when he said ‘yes’ to joining Watford when he was eleven.

And then. Then. It started as a tingle behind his right eye and then grew to a burning. For one fearful moment, Simon thought that he had made it worse, doomed to live in agony as well as misery. But then the darkness grew, well, fuzzy, and then lighter and clearer until he could see Baz standing in front of him with perfect clarity, concern written all over his features. Those beautiful, striking features. They took his breath away.

“Are you ever a sight for sore eyes.” Simon said once he’d found his voice again.

A grin spread across Baz’s face like the sun breaking out from behind a patch of clouds, and he let out a strangled cry, pulling Simon to his chest with an intensity quick enough to knock himself off guard. Simon caught him (or maybe Baz was just breaking his fall) and pressed his face to Baz’s neck, all the while words tumbling out of his mouth in a string of non-sensities.

“Oh Crowley- I thought- and you- I can’t- how can I ever-“

“Simon,” Baz breathed, turning the boy’s face up to meet his eyes. “It was my utmost pleasure.”

What happened next was hard to pinpoint. One moment Simon was looking into Baz’s gray eyes and the next he was kissing him. Whoever started it was impossible to tell, but all that mattered was warm lips, roaming hands, and the soft sighs of desperation and contentment all mixed into one release of longing. It was a long kiss, too, far longer than their first, but somehow it was all the more special. And Simon kept his eyes open the whole way through it.

 

 

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy! Where do I even start! First off I've been working on this piece for the past six months now. I know, I know, that seems like an awful lot of time but I really wanted to perfect this. There are still some things I'm not happy about like the ending (I think it could be better but after awhile you just have to learn to let go) and other miscellaneous details that I won't go into. But regardless, I am SUPER proud of this. I feel like I've grown a lot as a writer during this story and while I know I have a lot to learn, this was such an immense joy to write. Thank you to everyone who read this!!
> 
> Secondly, the lyrics from the beginning are from OneRepublic's "Something I Need." Fantastic song. It's my ultimate Snowbaz song and was partially the inspiration for this fic (not to mention I must have had this practically on repeat during my planning sessions). If you haven't heard it yet, I recommend you go listen to it. Maybe we can even make this the official Snowbaz song, what do you guys say?
> 
> Thridly, hmmm...I believe there was a third thing... Oh yes! Some research notes. I really looked into all the lore I could find on the internet concerning Manticores. Everything I wrote here, their being from Persian folklore, having a trumpet call, possessing the tail of a scorpion, having multiple rows of teeth, etc., is accurate. The only part I made up is about them having a snake for a tongue let alone one that spits a blinding venom. Most accounts just have them spitting an acid that causes severe burns. I should also mention that the bit about manticores being turned to stone if they see one of their own kind or a reflection came from a source of doubtful credibility. I don't remember from where but I marked it as so in my notes and who knows, maybe you have a project due in the morning on a mythological creature that you put off to read my story. In this case I would recommend leaving those two details out. 
> 
> On a related note, I discovered a ton of cool sayings related to vision when digging through the internet. I'm going to share some of the more clever ones that didn't quite make the final cut. "As water reflects the face, so one's life reflects the heart." "Silence and reflection cause no dejection." And my personal favorite, a Yiddish proverb that I stumbled upon on a famous quotations site, "If you want to give God a good laugh, tell him your plans."
> 
> And a hearty thanks to those who have stuck around through these ramblings. Thank you so much and your feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
